


Hold On or Let Go

by bmart57



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Cheating, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, POV Multiple, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8854960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmart57/pseuds/bmart57
Summary: “Why did you even bring me out here, Derek? Did you just want to play with me a little bit? You were drunk and horny and you knew I’d be willing?” Stiles wiped furiously at the tears forming in his eyes before they could make their way down his cheeks. “Do you really think that little of me?”Derek’s face crumpled. “Stiles.” He reached a hand out, but aborted the movement when Stiles stiffened. “I never meant to hurt you.”“I don’t think you thought about me very much at all.”





	1. Don’t See Me Standing Here

_this word is not enough but it will_  
_have to do. It's a single_  
_vowel in this metallic_  
_silence, a mouth that says_  
_O again and again in wonder_  
_and pain, a breath, a finger_  
_grip on a cliffside. You can_  
_hold on or let go._  
**~Margaret Atwood, Variations On The Word Love**

_Stiles_

The music pumping through the speakers in Lydia’s living room was starting to give Stiles a headache.

“Stiles, you okay, man?” Scott nudged Stiles’s shoulder, nearly making him spill his drink down his shirt front.

“What? Yeah,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Just...lost in thought.”

Scott raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at where Stiles’s eyes had been glued. Even still, Derek had his arms draped around Braeden, and they danced closely, making each other laugh over the music.

Stiles cleared his throat, looking up at Scott. “Hey, so, uh, where did Allison go?”

“To find Jackson and Lydia,” Scott said in a tone that indicated this was information Stiles should have known, but he had been lost in thought, okay, he wasn’t lying.

“Ah,” Stiles said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Really, though, are you okay?” Scott lowered his voice, and Stiles was a little caught off guard by his serious tone. Scott shot another significant look in Derek’s direction, and Stiles followed his gaze.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised about Scott’s intuition. His growing feelings for Derek weren’t something they’d talked about, but this was Scott. Some things they didn’t have to say to be understood. It was one of his favorite things about his friendship with Scott, even in times like now, when he wished his friend wasn’t always so perceptive.

Stiles's ears burned, and he had the urge to brush Scott off, but instead he shrugged. “You know me,” he said, contorting his face into an empty smirk. “I’m always fine.”

“Stiles-”

Someone fiddled with the radio and the song abruptly changed to another. Stiles whooped, taking the distraction as a Godsend. “I love this song! Come dance with me, Scotty!”

Scott clipped his sentence off, a panicked look overcoming his face. “No, no-”

“C’mon, Scott, don’t make me dance by myself,” Stiles said. He passed his drink off to some freshman in his vicinity and pulled Scott towards the middle of the room, not noticing or caring about the glare the kid sent him in his wake. Stiles started jumping around, spazzing out, and Scott looked ready to melt into the floor. “Hey, you’re the freak standing around on the dance floor,” Stiles yelled over the music.

Stiles dramatically moved his V-shaped fingers across his eyes, making Scott crack up enough to start jumping around himself. “There you go!” Stiles laughed.

They competed in a little mini-dance off, seeing who could come up with the most ridiculous dance moves while the silly pop song bounced through the wide room.

Before the song ended, Allison came sauntering up to them, dancing up against Scott in an overly dramatic way. They all laughed, and Scott grabbed her hands, spinning her into a twirl.

Lydia and Jackson weren’t far behind. Jackson grabbed Lydia by the hips and started dancing with her as well, the two of them together looking way more put together than two high schoolers at a party had any right to. Stiles danced beside them all for a few seconds until he felt that awkward ache in his stomach that told him he was being a fifth wheel.

He backed away a bit, dancing on his own, until his eyes landed on Derek and Braeden again. They were kissing now, heated but somehow still playful, and Stiles looked down at the fluffy white carpet, the mild ache becoming more of a painful gnawing in his stomach.

He inched away, hoping no one would notice him as he slid off the floor and, after a moment’s hesitation and a quick glance around, out the front door.

Gulping down a few deep breaths to clear his head, Stiles tried to evaluate if he was sober enough to drive. He could still feel the alcohol buzzing through his system slightly, but he’d only had about half a beer in the hour or so that he’d been there. His senses still felt clear, and honestly, he didn’t think he could put up with this party for another second. He just felt...raw.

He rattled his keys in his pocket to assure himself of their presence and started walking down the driveway toward his trusty old Jeep. He’d purposely parked in the back so he’d be able to bail whenever he wanted. As he walked, he pulled out his phone to text Scott and let him know to catch a ride home with Allison.

Before he could finish typing out his text, his phone lit up with a message from Scott. _Whered u go??_

Stiles finished typing out his response and hit send. _Headed out. Not in much of a party mood. We’re still on for COD tomorrow though right?_

His phone vibrated a few seconds later. _Yea :/ drive safe_

Stiles shook his head fondly, dimming the screen on his phone. His night vision was pretty shot, though, which might explain why he didn’t see the massive human-shaped shadow leaning up against his car until it startled the shit out of him.

“Holy-” he exclaimed, clutching his chest, which his heart was apparently trying to pound its way out of. It didn’t take long for the shadow to take a distinctly Derek shape. “You totally do that skulk in the dark crap on purpose, don’t you, you sadistic asshole? I swear to Christ in Heaven you’re getting a bell for Christmas.”

“Where are you going?” Derek said.

“The Grand Canyon,” Stiles said, still focusing on his erratic beat of his heart. “How did you even beat me out here?”

“It’s not like you to leave a party early,” Derek said, ignoring Stiles’s question entirely, and, wow, rude. Derek narrowed his eyes. “How much have you had to drink?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You do realize my father is the sheriff, right? I’m not a complete idiot.”

“That’s debatable.”

“I’m fine to drive, and I’m going home,” Stiles said. “Now, excuse me.”

“You’re in a weird mood.” Derek's brow furrowed with concern.

“Oh my God, can I please just leave?” Stiles threw his hands in the air. “Isn’t your girlfriend waiting inside? Go concern yourself with her mood and leave me the hell alone.”

Derek flinched, a small movement that was difficult to see in the dark. But Stiles saw it all the same, and it made him feel like shit. “Fine,” Derek said, directing his gaze over Stiles’s shoulder. “Try not to wrap your Jeep around a tree. It would kill your dad to have to scrape you off the concrete.”

“Real nice, Derek, thanks,” Stiles said. Derek walked away, narrowly missing Stiles’s shoulder as he passed him.

Stiles shook his head, rubbing a hand through his unkempt hair. “Perfect,” he muttered. He climbed into the driver’s seat of his Jeep, closing the door with more force than was strictly necessary.

He sat there in his car, watching Derek’s receding form until he disappeared behind Lydia’s front door.

***

“Oh, man, we’re getting creamed right now,” Stiles said, throwing his head back as he was taken out _again_ by the asshole camping in a building in the main square.

“We’re down like three people and they’ve got two snipers,” Scott said, groaning as he too went down.

Stiles had respawned, and he took cover as he evaluated the best way to sneak up on the camper for the revenge kill.

He watched as the guy shot down one of his teammates and in doing so, gave his location away. Stiles circled the building and carefully climbed the stairs into the rundown building. The sniper was at the top, back to Stiles’s character, and Stiles was just about to take him out when another player darted out of the room and knifed him.

Stiles cried out indignantly. “Did you see that? They had a guy guarding the damn sniper!” He groaned, tossing his controller when his kill replayed on the screen, the losing one for his team.

“Bitches,” Scott agreed, setting aside his own controller. He was so even tempered, he never really let their Call of Duty loses bother him as much as Stiles did.

“I’m officially over this for now,” Stiles said. He leaned forward and turned off his console. “You wanna go to the diner and get some milkshakes or something?”

“Sure. Wanna text everyone to meet up?”

Stiles stood up, not looking at Scott as he glanced around on his floor for another shirt. The Cheetos dust covering his wasn’t his most flattering look. “I don’t know,” Stiles said after a too long pause. “Can it just be us for now?”

“Yeah, man,” Scott agreed easily.

Stiles picked up his black Zelda shirt and gave it a sniff test. Deciding it wasn’t too bad, he slipped his shirt over his head and replaced it with the slightly wrinkled but decidedly cleaner one. He patted his pockets, sighing when he didn’t feel his keys rattle in any of them.

“It’s getting harder for you, isn’t it?”

Stiles glanced around his room, then lifted the blanket strewn over his bed. “What is?”

“This thing with Derek.”

He stopped, dropping his blanket. Finally, he looked up at Scott. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Scott looked back at Stiles with sad, concerned eyes. “C’mon, man. It’s me. You’re like my brother. I know you better than anybody, and I can see the way you’ve been acting around him lately.”

Stiles tightened his jaw, eyes lowering to the floor. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Scott said. “I guess I just want you to know you can talk about it with me. I never brought it up because I thought it was just like your thing with Lydia, you know? A crush that you’d grow out of eventually. But now I’m thinking it’s not.”

“I thought it was, too, at first.” Stiles swallowed, his throat feeling too dry. “When Lydia would ignore me, it felt like a game. It was exciting thinking of bigger, bolder things to get her attention. With Derek-” Stiles voice broke over his name, and he released an unsteady breath. “He looks at me, but he doesn’t _see_ me. Every time, it’s like a punch to the gut. And yeah, I guess it is getting harder.”

“I’m sorry, bro,” Scott said. “I would say, you know, go for it, but…”

Stiles laughed, a broken, humorless sound. “But he’s crazy about his badass, amazing, hot as hell girlfriend? And even if he wasn’t, he’s never given a single indication that he was remotely into dudes? And even if miraculously both of those things weren’t true, there’s no way in hell I would be anywhere near his league?”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said again. “Although I don’t agree about the league thing. But the other stuff, yeah.”

Stiles shrugged, finally spotting the metallic gleam of his keys sticking out from under the edge of his pillow. He pasted a big, fake smile on his face as he reached over and nicked them. “I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s only for a few more months, and then Derek and Braeden will be going off to college together. And I’ll still be here.”

“Does that make you feel better?” Scott asked dubiously, his eyebrows lowering in concern.

“It should, shouldn’t it?” Stiles rubbed the back of his head. “It makes me feel a little worse, actually. As hard as seeing him every day is, the thought of not seeing him-” Stiles shrugged again. “I’ll be fine,” he repeated. “You ready to get that milkshake or what?” Stiles held up his keys, rattling them in Scott’s direction.

Scott sighed, shaking his head at Stiles. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLG6Dvau-S8PZim_AaQBaTPCR8mre1u0X-) a link to the playlist that all the chapter titles came from.


	2. Like I Know Myself

_Derek_

Derek smirked as he slid his hand into Braeden’s pocket, pulling out a few bills. “You buying me lunch today or what?”

She knocked into him as she snatched her cash out of his hand. “You wish. Maybe if you didn’t eat enough for three. You’re on your own for now, hippo.”

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you calling me fat? I have like eight percent body fat, I’ll have you know.”

“I meant of the Hungry, Hungry variety, Mr. Modesty.” She rolled her eyes, grinning. “You might want to learn a little moderation, though, babe. You won’t have that eighteen year old metabolism forever.”

Derek held up a finger in her face. “I come from a long line of athletic, sturdy Hales. Not a fat one in the bunch.”

Braeden snorted as she grabbed her burger and fries from the warmer. “Yet.” She eyed Derek as he grabbed two burgers and fries of his own.

“See, now I’m starting to really get offended,” he said with a faux serious expression. They continued through the line, grabbing waters and paying for their own respective lunches. “Are you saying you wouldn’t love me if I got fat?”

“No,” Braeden answered immediately. “Absolutely not. I mean, let’s face it. Like seventy-five percent of the reason I’m with you is for your smoking hot body. Without that, you really lose a lot of your appeal.”

Try as he might, Derek couldn’t keep a straight face. “You are such a jerk,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head.

Braeden shook her head earnestly. “I’m serious,” she said as they joined their friends at their group’s lunch table. “It’s not just me, watch. Would you guys still love Derek if he got fat?”

“Nope,” Scott said.

“No,” Allision agreed, smiling.

“Not a chance,” Lydia said. 

“See?” Braeden said. “Without that body you’re pretty much dead to us.” Braeden slid onto the bench seat across from Allison and Derek sat next to her, opening his bottle of water to take a sip. 

“I hate all of you,” he said after swallowing. “Now I’m going to get fat just out of spite.”

“Go ahead,” Jackson said. “I’ll be happy to take your spot as team captain when you’re waddling your way around the field.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at Jackson. “Watch it, Whittemore.”

Jackson shrugged, taking a bite of his salad. “Just saying.”

Allison kicked his shin lightly under the table. “Of course we’d love you no matter what size you were, Derek.”

“Thank you, Alli, my only true friend.” Derek unwrapped his burger, biting into it purposefully.

Braeden rolled her eyes at him again. She leaned over and nipped at his jaw. “I think I could come around, too. Maybe. A phrase about cushions comes to mind.”

Derek laughed, nearly choking on his food. “I think that only refers to larger girls,” he said around a mouthful.

Braeden shrugged. “We could make it work.”

He leaned over to give her a kiss, but she shoved his face away playfully when she saw he still had hamburger in his mouth. “Gross!”

Derek was about to protest when Stiles caught his eye. He’d stood up abruptly, holding his mostly full lunch tray in his hand. If Derek were being honest, he hadn’t realized Stiles had been sitting at the other end of the table. It wasn’t like him to be quiet for so long. “Sorry,” Stiles mumbled. “I just realized I have a thing I need to go do. I’ll see you guys later.”

He waved at no one in particular and walked away. Derek shot Scott a questioning look, but Scott just shrugged, his eyes dropping down to the table. “Guess he had a thing.”

They went back to joking around, but Derek couldn’t help but feel like everything they said was missing a beat without Stiles there to laugh along.

***

Coach Finstock’s whistle sounded, stopping Derek in his tracks. “ _Hale_ , bring it in!” he shouted.

Derek sighed, yanking off his helmet as he jogged over to coach, not looking forward to the lashing he was about to get. _Undeserved_ lashing, he might add.

“Look, Coach-” Derek said.

“Oh, don’t you ‘look, Coach’ me, Hale! What the hell is going on out there today?” He waved his arms wildly at the field where the team was standing around, huffing deep breaths after their last disaster of a play.

“It’s an off day,” Derek admitted. He opened his mouth to continue, but Finstock cut him off.

“An off day? My mother showing up uninvited when I’ve been day drinking is an off day. This is a catastrophe! Whittemore refuses to pass, McCall can’t catch, and I’m pretty sure Bilinski forgot how to play lacrosse entirely. Don’t even get me _started_ on Greenberg.”

“It’s still the preseason, coach,” Derek said. “We’ll get it together.”

“You better!” Finstock said. “I expect you to inspire some team spirit out there. Unless you think you might need a co-captain to help with the task.”

“No, sir,” Derek said through clenched teeth.

“Good,” Finstock said. He blew his whistle loudly in Derek’s face. “Formation!”

Derek shook his head, slipping his helmet back on and jogging back over to his teammates. They were unhurriedly meandering into place, so Derek shouted, “C’mon, guys, hustle! We’re running the shallow clear through up top until we get it right. Back into a three-three, let’s go!”

When they’d settled into place, Coach blew his whistle to signal the start of the play. Derek passed the ball in to Scott from the sideline. Scott mercifully caught it, though the catch was a little sloppy. He ran the formation correctly, though, and passed the ball to Jackson on the other side of the umbrella as Derek joined the fray. Jackson caught it cleanly, and the defense rotated well. Derek was feeling hopeful when instead of passing to Stiles midfield, Jackson made a wild shot, somehow making the goal anyway.

Finstock’s whistle sounded, but Derek was on Jackson before Coach could shout his nonsensical insults from the sidelines. “Dammit, Jackson! What the hell are you doing?”

Jackson had been smirking, but he frowned at Derek’s confrontation. “I had the shot,” he said.

“Yeah, we get it, tough guy. You’re a superstar.” Derek stepped up to him. “But you’re not the only person on this team, and we all have to be able to nail this play. Pass the damn ball, or I’m going to move you to D and give your position to someone who can. Got it?”

“Fine,” Jackson spit. He haughtily turned on his heel to get back to his starting position.

“Formation!” Finstock yelled again.

They fell into place, and this time the play went off without a hitch until Jackson went to pass it to Stiles. Not only did Stiles not catch the ball, but he didn’t appear to be in any kind of position to do so. Knowing this, Jackson passed the ball anyway. It thumped into one of the defensemen's nets, and Finstock’s whistle sounded again.

“Stiles, focus!” Derek shouted. “Head out of the clouds! Cross down to your position midfield.”

Stiles helmet bobbed up and down in a stiff nod and they got back into formation.

They ran the play again, and this time Stiles crossed the field in the exact opposite direction. Jackson passed it to Stiles this time instead of to the defensemen midfield, but it thumped off the edge of Stiles’s stick and onto the ground.

Derek swore, jogging over to Stiles. Coach Finstock was shouting insults at Stiles involving his grandmother, but Derek ignored him. “Stiles, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” Stiles said, his knuckles turning white from clenching his stick.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Derek said. “You do know where midfield is, don’t you?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek. “ _Yes,_ Derek. I know where midfield is.”

“Do we need to review the play again?"

“I know the play,” Stiles said. He was seething, but Derek was willing to push him if that meant getting this play right and getting Finstock off his back. “Let’s run it again. I’ll get it.”

“I sure as hell hope so,” Derek said. “Jogging twelve steps to midfield is something even Greenberg could do without fucking it up.”

With the look that passed across Stiles’s face, Derek knew he’d gone too far. “You know what?” Stiles said, voice stone cold. He ripped off his helmet. “Let Greenberg do it then, since I’m obviously too much of a fuckup to handle it.”

Stiles checked Derek’s shoulder as he rushed past him toward the locker room.

Derek looked toward the sky, groaned and pulling off his own helmet. He turned, running after Stiles. “Wait!” he called out.

He heard coach blow his whistle and call for a passing drill, abandoning the play for now. Derek caught up with Stiles just outside the locker room, grabbing his shoulder and making him turn around. “Stiles, wait. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Stiles's face remained hard as he jerked out of Derek’s grasp. “Whatever, Derek. I get it. Finstock was coming down on you, so you decided to take it out on the rest of us.”

“That’s not fair,” Derek said, willing his cheeks not to flush. Stiles wasn’t exactly wrong, after all. “I was trying to show tough love. We’ve got to shape up if we want any chance of actually winning the semifinals this year.”

Stiles scoffed. “Tough love, huh?” He turned toward the locker room again.

“Coach isn’t going to let you start if you cut out on practice now,” Derek said.

“I could give fuck all about starting!” Stiles shouted, turning to glare at Derek.

Derek flinched, narrowing his eyes at Stiles. “What the hell is your problem, Stiles?” Derek asked. “This is about more than me coming down on you at practice. You’ve been acting weird for weeks now. Did I do something to piss you off?”

Stiles glared over Derek’s shoulder toward the field, his jaw clenched. “No, Derek,” he said in a level voice, refusing to meet his gaze. “You didn’t do anything at all.”

He turned around, disappearing behind the locker room door. Derek scrubbed a hand down his face, shaking his head before turning back to join the team at practice.


	3. What Didn't Kill Me

_Stiles_

Stiles took a long pull from his beer, the taste getting milder and more enjoyable the more he drank. He was three cups of beer and two shots of whiskey in, and Heather’s guests were looking increasing blurry. And attractive. Blurtractive.

He laughed to himself, looking around to find Scott so his friend could laugh with him. Stiles hadn’t seen him in a while, and the last time he had, Scott had been pretty interested in the way Allison’s hair was falling on her neck.

It probably wouldn’t be a very dangerous bet to say they’d disappeared upstairs, now that Stiles thought about it. He shrugged, tipping his head back to gulp down the rest of his half-empty drink.

“Well, you sure look like a guy who can swallow.”

Stiles coughed, nearly choking on his beer. He turned around to see - holy hell. A guy that was hotter than the face of the _sun_ hot, and the guy was staring at him. Well, leering might be a better word, but still.

The guy was making a show of letting his eyes trail down and then back up Stiles’s body. He was hot - _God damn_ \- no doubt about it. He gave off those I-know-I’m-hot Jackson Whittemore-esque vibes, which was usually a turnoff for Stiles. Tonight, it was working for him. 

“Do I know you?” Stiles asked, cocking an eyebrow. He was definitely not slurring his words, shut up.

“I don’t think you do, and ain’t that a shame?” The guy took a step closer, invading Stiles’s personal space. “Luke,” he said.

“Stiles.”

If he was surprised at Stiles’s name, Luke didn’t show it. “Pleasure,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Uh, how-how do you know Heather?”

“Same class. You?”

Stiles stuck his hand in his pocket. His other one was stuck holding his empty red cup awkwardly. “We went to elementary school together.” Stiles shrugged. “I go to BH, but we stayed in touch.”

“It’s lucky for me that you did,” Luke said, smirking.

Stiles's mouth went dry. “How so?” 

Luke stepped closer, taking the empty cup from Stiles’s hand and placing it on a nearby side table. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me and find out?” he whispered in Stiles’s ear.

Stiles pulled back, staring into Luke’s dark eyes. His brain felt foggy, and he was sweaty all over. Luke was standing so close and he smelled really nice, and Stiles had been so lonely lately. Stiles knew there were a million reasons he should definitely say no to this complete stranger, but he couldn’t bring a single one to mind just now.

Stiles’s eyes darted down to Luke’s mouth, and he licked his lips as he nodded.

Luke smiled, a brilliant flash of perfectly even teeth, and leaned forward to kiss Stiles. It was a deep, open-mouthed, heated kiss that left Stiles feeling breathless. Luke stuck his tongue a little farther into Stiles’s mouth than he would have liked, but Stiles went with it, matching his movements.

A few moments later, Luke broke the kiss, nipping Stiles’s bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled away. Stiles was breathing hard as he tried to get his bearings. Luke nodded his head toward the staircase, and grabbed Stiles’s hand, tugging him in the right direction.

They’d made it about halfway up the stairs when Stiles felt a violent pull on his other hand. Both he and Luke stopped short, Stiles just barely managing not to tumble down the stairs in his inebriated state.

He turned on his heel to see a very angry Derek glaring at him from a few stairs down. “What the hell-”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Derek’s eyebrows were dangerously lowered, setting off warning bells in Stiles’s head. _Mayday, abort mission!_ Derek's whole range of emotions could be expressed with those eyebrows. Stiles swallowed down a hysterical laugh that came with the thought.

“I…” Stiles hesitated, his thoughts jumbled together in his fuzzy brain. 

Luke dropped his hand like it was on fire, and Stiles looked over his shoulder to see him sizing up Derek’s admittedly much larger frame.

“Look, man, he didn’t say he had a boyfriend.”

“He isn't my boyfriend,” Stiles said quickly, and, okay, ouch. As if he needed that reminder.

“How much have you had to drink, Stiles?” Derek asked.

Stiles’s face flushed. “How is that any of your business?”

He felt more than he saw Luke backing away slowly, inching up the stairs and away from the scene that was unfolding. Stiles wished he could go with him. Or even not with him. He wanted to be anywhere but right here right now. He didn’t look away from Derek, but in his periphery he could see people in the living room starting to take notice of their little show. Braeden stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at them.

“How much?” Derek asked again, ignoring Stiles’s response.

Stiles shook his head, walking down the stairs and passing Derek. “You’re not my babysitter, Derek.”

“Well, somebody has to be, because obviously you can’t handle looking after yourself.”

“Oh, right!” Stiles said too loudly, turning to glare over his shoulder. “Thank you for rescuing me from that super hot guy. Don’t know what I would’ve done without you!”

Derek clenched his jaw. “I’m not really interested in your opinion on the matter right now. We can discuss it when you’re sober.”

“Can’t wait,” Stiles said flippantly, heading in the direction of the kitchen. He definitely needed another drink.

He only made it about three steps before Derek grabbed onto his upper arm like a vice. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You’ve had enough for one night.”

Stiles groaned. “Remember when you used to be fun?”

Derek narrowed his eyes. “Remember when you used to have some common fucking sense?” He pulled on Stiles's arm, and they headed in the direction of the front door. Braeden trailed behind them. “I have no idea what’s gotten into you lately, but I’m taking you home.”

Stiles felt shame wash through him as they headed out the front door and across Heather’s lawn to Derek’s Camaro. “I have my Jeep,” he said.

“I _know_ you don’t think you’re in any shape to drive right now. Even you’re not that stupid.”

Stiles stopped, yanking his arm out of Derek’s grasp. “Go fuck yourself,” he said hotly. “No, of course I didn't plan on driving right now, because despite what you clearly think, I’m not a total idiot. But I also don’t plan on leaving my Jeep here for the night. I’ll wait until I’m sober enough, or I’ll crash here and drive home tomorrow. As previously mentioned, I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“I’m taking you home,” Derek repeated. “Braeden will follow us in your Jeep.”

Stiles planted his feet and crossed his arms over his middle. He swayed a little despite his best efforts to remain upright. “Can she drive stick?”

Derek looked over at Braeden who shook her head, shrugging. “Sorry, no,” she said.

Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll drive your Jeep and Braeden will follow us in my car.”

“No,” Stiles said. “I have a plan. It’s a good plan.”

“It’s not up for debate.” Derek bypassed his own car to stand next to Stiles’s Jeep parked a few feet away.

“I said no, I’m not going. Unless you plan on throwing me over your shoulder and making me, it _is_ up for debate.”

“You know what?” Derek yanked the driver’s side door open. “You want options? How about this for options: either you give me your keys and come get in the car right now, or I’ll call the sheriff and get his opinion on the matter.”

Stiles’s back straightened, and he widened his eyes at Derek. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” Derek bit out.

They glared at each other for a few long seconds in the orange glow of the streetlight before Stiles reached into his pocket and tossed Derek his keys. “Don’t you dare grind the gears."

Derek rolled his eyes, handing Braeden the keys to his own car. She pecked him on the lips before walking over to Stiles, pulling him into an unexpected hug. “It’s going to be fine. He’s just trying to look out for you,” she said into his shoulder.

Stiles snorted, but he found his temper waning slightly as he rounded his Jeep to get in the passenger seat.

“If you throw up, I’m not cleaning it up,” Derek warned. He cranked the Jeep, wiggling the switch on the headlights until they shined steadily.

Stiles clicked his seatbelt on. “I don’t see why not. It’ll be your fault. You’re the one who’s making me go home.”

Derek scoffed. “I’m know I’m the bad guy to you right now, Stiles, but I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe. I don’t trust you to do that for yourself right now.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to drink and drive,” Stiles argued.

Derek pulled out onto the street, looking both ways carefully for any suddenly appearing cars or drunk teenagers.

“Just like you weren’t going to hook up with that guy you just met?”

Stiles’s cheeks filled with warmth. If ever there was someone he didn’t want to have this conversation with… “Drunken hookups at parties are practically a high school rite of passage.”

“Did you even know his name?”

Stiles glared at Derek’s profile. “Are you seriously slut shaming me right now?”

Derek met Stiles's glare briefly before turning back to the road. “That’s not-” He paused. “Look, you might be permanently pissed off at me these days, and God knows why, but you’re not making smart choices right now. I’m just trying to keep you from making decisions that you’ll regret tomorrow. Or worse, keep you from putting yourself in a potentially dangerous situation with a guy you barely know.”

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles said, throwing his hands up. “He was a junior at Broadmore, not the next Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“You’re not exactly in a position to be able to tell either way, are you?”

Stiles looked up into the rearview mirror, headlights in the distance reassuring him that Braeden was still safely following. “You have no right to tell me who I can hook up with.” And damn, he meant for that to sound more defensive and less…sad.

“You can hook up with whoever the hell you want to when you’re sober,” Derek said. “I didn’t trust your judgement tonight.”

Stiles looked out the passenger window and away from Derek’s taut jaw. “Not whoever I want,” he muttered.

There was a long pause. “We can talk about it more tomorrow,” Derek said again. “I just needed to make sure you got home safe.”

When Stiles didn’t respond, Derek leaned forward and turned the radio on low, the college station they both preferred filling up the cab of the Jeep softly.

Stiles’s ‘thank you’ hovered on his tongue for the whole trip home, but he never could work up the nerve to actually say it.


	4. Not In That Way

_Stiles_

Stiles never got around to thanking Derek for stopping him from losing his virginity with a stranger when he was drunk at a party, but he did make more of a concentrated effort to stop being such a dick to him. 

He knew intellectually that he had no right to be pissy with Derek, but he couldn’t help how it felt to be around him, particularly when he and Braeden were being very coupley. It hurt too much to be near him but not be with him, and if that made Stiles an asshole, then what else was new?

Derek obviously took notice of Stiles’s attitude change, because Stiles was surprised to see a text from Derek the Saturday after the party. _Hey...wanna go for a run?_

Stiles and Derek were the only two of their group that actually enjoyed running and did so outside of the laps Coach Finstock made them run for practice. It had become their thing, the only thing they ever did alone. They hadn’t gone together in a few months at least. Not since Stiles had inadvertently put a strain on their relationship.

Stiles stared down at Derek’s tentative text, considering. On one hand, a run sounded fucking perfect right about now to sooth the antsy feeling buzzing beneath his skin. He hadn’t taken his Adderall that morning, and he was feeling worse for it.

On the other hand, though, being alone with Derek… it just seemed like too much right now. He didn’t think he could handle it without their friends around as buffers. _Sorry,_ he typed out, guilt pooling in his stomach, thick and heavy. _Still kinda sore from practice. Rain check?_

It took a few minutes for Derek’s response to come in. _Sure,_ was all he said.

A few hours later, the buzzing feeling hadn’t dissipated, even after taking his Adderall later in the day than he knew was wise. Stiles swore, hopping up to change into some workout clothes. He grabbed his headphones and his keys and headed out.

If Stiles were a smarter person, he would have gone to the park or the school, or literally anywhere but the Preserve, his and Derek’s usual running spot. He figured Derek either would have opted out of going entirely, or he would have shown up and left by now, and the Preserve was their favorite spot for a reason, after all.

The trails were winding, and just long enough to be a full workout, but not so long that you needed to turn back part of the way though. They offered enough of a challenge with foothills and tree roots, but not so many that it was a real danger. Best of all, the paths through the woods were beautiful, full of wildlife and foliage, and even a few small waterfalls.

Stiles had just passed the first of the waterfalls, indicating he was about a quarter of the way around the loop, when he felt his shoulder jerk back and he lost his stride.

He whirled around, his heart pounding as he yanked his headphones out of his ears to regain his senses.

A livid Derek stood glaring at Stiles. His arms were bare, and his shirt was soaked through with sweat.

“Derek?” Stiles huffed out, his breath coming too quickly.

“Guess you weren’t too sore after all.” Derek was trying and not quite succeeding in hiding the hurt in his voice.

Stiles looked over Derek’s shoulder, avoiding his gaze. “Guess not,” he said after a few long seconds, his voice sounding strained.

Derek clenched his jaw, shaking his head in disbelief. He turned, walking away from Stiles. He made it a few strides down the trail before whirling around and running a hand through his sweaty hair.

“No, you know what,” Derek said, his voice hard, “I’m officially over this. You’re going to explain to me exactly whatever the hell it is I did to piss you off.”

Stiles let his head droop backwards, looking at the sky as he released a loud breath. “You didn’t do anything.”

“You damn right I didn’t do anything!” Stiles’s head snapped up to look at Derek, his eyes widening. “So then explain to me why the fuck you’re avoiding me or else being a major asshole when you do happen to acknowledge my presence. And now we can add blatantly lying to my face to the list, too.”

“Well, technically,” Stiles hedged, “it wasn’t to your face-”

“Oh, shut up.” Derek said. “Tell me why you’re pissed off at me.”

Stiles looked down at his ratty tennis shoes, scuffing his foot in the dirt. “I’m not-”

“Do _not_ lie to me right now, Stiles,” Derek warned. “I deserve better than that.”

Stiles raised his eyes, glaring. “I’m not lying,” he said. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why are you acting like this?” Derek said. “I thought we were friends.”

Stiles met Derek’s gaze for a few long moments. His gut was a mess of emotions. He wanted to be running again, his head empty of everything but his breathing, his next steps. “I don’t want to be your friend, Derek.”

Derek’s eyes widened briefly, and then his eyebrows came down in a concerned look. “Stiles, _why?_ We’ve been friends for years.”

Stiles crossed his arms over his middle, holding himself tightly. “Can we please not do this right now?” His voice broke, and he looked down at the ground again.

“If you’re going to throw away our friendship, I deserve an explanation as to why. I mean, are you upset because I’m leaving? San Francisco is a half hour drive. I’ll be back all the time.”

Stiles shook his head. “That’s not it. I mean, a little, but…”

Derek took a few steps closer, maybe sensing Stiles’s defenses were lowering. “Then what is?”

Stiles looked up into Derek’s eyes, an impossible gray-green color against the backdrop of the forest around them. They were wide, concerned, pleading, and Stiles had a hard enough time resisting them when they weren’t any of those things. “You really want to know?”

“Ye-”

Stiles cut Derek’s affirmative off by grabbing his face on both sides and kissing him deeply, fiercely. He knew, he _knew_ it was wrong, that it wasn’t fair to not give Derek a choice in this, but when was he going to get this chance again?

Derek’s mouth was stiff at first, his whole body still. Stiles was just about to pull away when he felt movement against his lips, and Derek was kissing him back. For about three glorious seconds it was him and it was Derek and they were alone and kissing and it was just this. It was the most pure thing he’d ever experienced.

And then Derek’s hand pushed on his chest, a gentle but firm press that had him taking a step backwards.

Stiles brought his hand up to his mouth, his lips plump and tingling.

They stood staring at each other, Derek’s eyebrows raised as they both tried to get their breathing under control.

“Oh,” Derek finally said, breaking the tense silence.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Yeah."

Derek rubbed a hand down his face. “Stiles, listen-”

“No,” Stiles cut him off. “You don’t need to say anything. I'm sorry I kissed you without your permission. It's just, it was the only way I could think to- But believe me, I already know the answer to that question. I’m not an idiot. I’m...” He gestured to himself wildly and shook his head. “You don’t need to say anything.”

Stiles tried to walk past Derek giving him a wide berth, but Derek grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

He paused, standing next to Derek but facing away from him. He nearly swore aloud when he felt that stupid little slither of impossible, idiotic hope curl deeply within him. When Derek didn’t say anything else, Stiles finally did look him in the eye. The pity he saw there made his stomach turn. He fought the urge to yank his arm out of Derek’s grasp.

“I don’t want to leave it like this,” Derek said.

Stiles worked his jaw, and if he was blinking more than normal, Derek mercifully didn't mention it. “How else can we leave it?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Derek shook his head sadly. “All I know is I miss hanging out with you. Can’t we just...move past this?”

Stiles did pull his arm out of Derek’s grip then, gentler than he’d considered previously. “I really wish we could. But, Derek, being around you right now _hurts._ I know it's not your fault, and I have no right to take that out on you, but- I just can’t be near you right now.”

The look in Derek's eyes had Stiles's chest tightening painfully. He walked past Derek, and this time Derek didn't reach out to grab him. Derek said his name when Stiles had gotten a few feet away, but Stiles didn't turn around.

As he walked back to his Jeep, Stiles's heart rate steadily increased the further he got from Derek. To his credit, he made it in his car and a few miles down the street before he had to pull over as his panic attack set in.

He wrapped his arms around his middle, his hands going numb as his heart pounded in his chest. He hummed the first song that popped into his head in an attempt to keep his mind off of what had just happened, off of Derek, off of his life. 

It took about fifteen minutes for him to get his breathing under control and his heart beating more regularly. Hands shaking, he took a few deep breaths, cranked his car, and drove the rest of the way home.


	5. I've Told You Now

_Derek_

Derek didn’t try to talk to Stiles over the following week. He did his best to respect Stiles’s wishes and give him as much space as he could while not setting off any alarms amongst their friend group. It’s not like he thought they would choose sides or be upset with Stiles or with Derek. He just...it was private, Stiles’s feelings. If Stiles didn’t want everyone to know, Derek would do his best to maintain that.

Still, he couldn’t help but keep a closer eye on Stiles now that he knew the reasons behind his behavior. The circles beneath his eyes were darker than the used to be, his laugh much less frequent or loud. 

It wasn’t right or fair, but Derek couldn’t help but feel guilty for having anything to do with it. He knew Stiles’s unhappiness wasn’t his fault necessarily, but was it Stiles’s fault either? He just knew his friend was hurting, and that sucked, no matter who was to blame for it.

These intrusive thoughts circled Derek’s mind, making him more withdrawn, especially when he was around Stiles. They were having lunch, the table a little less rowdy than usual as Scott and Jackson tried to squeeze in some study time before Harris’s infamous mid-semester Chem exam. Allison and Lydia were helping them with some of the tougher concepts. Stiles was quiet as per usual these days.

Braeden nudged Derek’s arm, bringing him out of his silent revery. “Hey, you alright over there? You look like you’re thinking some big thoughts.”

Derek shot her a small smile. “Fine. Just a little tired. Finstock has been riding us pretty hard at practice lately.”

“True that,” Scott said, nodding his head vigorously.

“And then Derek rides the rest of us even harder,” Jackson muttered, glaring at his textbook.

“Focus,” Lydia said sharply, tapping the page of his book.

“Is it dire?” Braeden said, tucking a piece of her curly dark hair behind her ear. “I mean, you guys are still looking good for the semifinals, right?”

Derek sighed. “I hope so. We’re not quite where we were last year at this point. Finstock’s riding us for a reason.”

Braeden winced in sympathy and wrapped her arm around Derek’s waist. “Well, win or lose, I love you no matter what.”

“Thanks,” he said, leaning in for a brief kiss. “Love you, too.”

“Aww,” Allison said. “You guys are too cute.”

“Hey,” Scott said, “we’re cute, too.”

“You bet your ass we are,” Allison said, hooking an arm around Scott’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Scott’s eyebrows rose comically high on his forehead as he returned the kiss enthusiastically. Lydia rolled her eyes at the two of them, but she leaned a little closer to Jackson.

Everyone’s gaze turned to Stiles as he stood up abruptly, full lunch tray in hand. He looked at no one in particular as he said, “I’ve got to go. See you guys later.”

He dumped his tray quickly, fleeing inside the school building.

“Is he okay?” Braeden asked everyone at the table. “Has he been acting weird lately, or is it just me?”

Scott’s eyes met Derek’s from across the table, and in that moment Derek realized that Scott knew. He should’ve guessed Scott would know. Scott and Stiles practically shared a brain sometimes.

“I should go check on him,” Scott said, but Derek held out his hand before Scott could stand.

“I’ll go,” Derek said.

“I’m not sure that’s-” Scott started.

“You should study,” Derek said. “I’ll just go make sure he’s okay.”

Derek stood up and followed Stiles’s path into the building before Scott could protest again.

He looked around the empty building, considering where Stiles might have gone. Finally, he turned down a vacant hallway and opened the door to the restroom. Stiles was in there, standing at the sink with the water running.

His hands were shaking as he gripped the edges of the sink, and he stared into his own red-rimmed eyes in the mirror.

Stiles didn’t look over when Derek entered the bathroom. Derek approached him slowly, letting the door close behind him. He walked up and stood behind Stiles, staring at Stiles reflection.

“Please leave me alone, Derek,” Stiles said, his gaze not faltering from staring into his own honey brown eyes. “Please. I just need to be alone.”

Derek closed his eyes, leaning in closer to Stiles. “I think that’s the exact opposite of what you need right now.”

Stiles closed his eyes, breaths coming quicker through his nose. His knuckles were white against the porcelain.

“You’re going to be okay,” Derek said. He wrapped one arm around Stiles’s stomach and the other around his chest, resting his hand over Stiles’s heart. His stomach was pressed against Stiles’s back. “Breathe with me."

Stiles concentrated on syncing his breath with Derek’s, staving off the panic attack that was threatening to overcome him.

He brought one of his hands up to grip Derek’s forearm, leaning his body back into Derek’s.

They stood like that for a few minutes until Stiles’s breathing matched Derek’s and his heartbeat slowed.

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered.

Derek released him reluctantly, pulling his arms back from around Stiles’s midsection. “No problem,” Derek said, avoiding Stiles’s gaze in the mirror. “You going to be okay?”

“You know me,” Stiles said glibly, but Derek cut him off with a look. “I’ll be fine,” he said more seriously.

“Are you coming back?” Derek asked.

“The bell should be ringing soon,” Stiles said. “I’m going to clean up a little then go to class.”

Derek nodded once, but then he hesitated. “I’m not sure I should leave you alone.”

“I can take care of myself,” Stiles said. The heat in his tone left no room for argument.

“I know you can,” Derek said. “I just wish you would realize you don’t have to.”

Stiles huffed a humorless laugh. “Taking care of myself is what I’m best at. I can practically list it on my resume at this point.” 

Derek reached out a useless hand toward him. “Stiles-”

“Go.” Stiles turned to his reflection in the mirror. “Go back to your girlfriend, Derek. I’ll be fine.”

Derek winced, dropping his hand by his side. “Maybe if you say it enough, someone will start to believe you.”

Derek turned and walked out of the bathroom, letting the door drift closed behind him.

Everyone turned to look at Derek when he returned to the table without Stiles.

“Is he okay?” Braeden prompted, lacing her fingers through Derek’s on the table.

“He’ll be fine,” Derek said. It felt like a lie on his tongue.

“Did he say what’s been bothering him lately?” Braeden asked. “We were taking, and we’ve all noticed it.”

Allison nodded across from him, looking concerned as she waited for Derek’s response. Derek could feel Scott’s gaze on his face, but he didn’t look at him, afraid of what his expression might give away.

“Not specifically,” Derek said. Was that the truth? He didn’t really know anymore. “I think he’s just feeling a little overworked right now with school and lacrosse and everything. Maybe a little freaked out that things are changing soon.”

Braeden nodded. “I get that. Maybe we should do something nice for him? I feel like we all haven’t hung out in too long. What do you guys think about a Call of Duty showdown at the Stilinskis’ this weekend?”

There were murmurs of agreement from everyone. Even Lydia nodded along, and she had a general disdain for video games.

"Then it's settled," Braeden decided.

Derek raised an eyebrow at her. "Maybe we should check with the Sheriff before we invite ourselves over to invade his home."

"We can stop by the station on the way home," she said. "It'll be fine, I'm sure. I always sneak him non-veggie pizza when we go over, so it's basically a sure thing."

Derek laughed, but it sounded false to his own ears. "Don't you dare tell Stiles that."

She smiled widely. "Do I look like I have a death wish?"

Derek shook his head. "Then it's settled," he agreed.


	6. The Only Thing That I Want

_Derek_

Derek paused in his search for a clean shirt, his cell phone sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” he asked. “This whole thing was your idea.”

“I know,” Braeden said, her voice sounding rushed. “I feel terrible. My mom just sprung this on me.”

Derek resumed scanning his closet, coming up empty. “Can’t it wait until next weekend?”

Braeden sighed. “I don’t want to ask. She took off work and everything. She’s so excited. And it’s important, Derek. Don’t you want to have some idea of where we’ll be living next year?”

“We have months to figure that out. We have tonight to cheer Stiles up.”

“He’ll be fine,” Braeden insisted. “Everyone else will be there.”

Derek found a gray Henley at the back of his closet, perfect for the weather and the night. He pulled it off the hanger and over his head, shuffling his phone around to do so. “It sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

There was a long pause. “It’s really not a big deal, Derek.”

“Yeah, obviously not to you.”

“God, what is with you lately?” she shot back. “You’ve been moody for weeks, and I’m a little tired of it if I’m honest.”

Derek scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m making a big deal out of nothing. I don’t want to fight, okay?”

“Me neither,” she said, her voice going softer. “I’ll make it up to him, I promise. More curly fries than any human being should ever logically consume.”

Derek smiled, grabbing his keys and wallet off of his dresser. “I’m sure he’ll find that arrangement more than acceptable.”

“I should go,” Braeden said. “My mom’s calling me and I’m not even close to finished packing.”

“Yeah,” Derek said. “I should head out, too.”

“Sneak the sheriff some pizza for me, though, okay?”

Derek snorted. “I’m sorry, I actually value my life.”

She laughed. “I think you could take Stiles if it came down to it.”

“I don’t know, he’s pretty scrappy.”

“That he is.” Derek heard Braeden’s mom call her name in the background of her phone. “Crap, I really got to go.”

“Okay, but hey! You know what they say about San Francisco. Promise you’ll come back?”

Braeden laughed. “This time,” she said. “After all, there’s no place like you.”

***

Derek sat next to Stiles on the couch, close but not touching, and they watched their friends murder each other ruthlessly on the Stilinskis’ tv screen. It was girls versus boys this round, Lydia and Allison against Scott and Jackson. Lydia was surprisingly good considering her lack of practice, and Allison was phenomenal. She shot circles around an increasingly frustrated Jackson and Scott. It was a massacre.

“Damn it, Scott!” Jackson yelled. “I said cover me!”

“I was trying!” Scott said. “She came out of nowhere!”

Jackson got taken out again by Lydia this time. He swore. “I don’t know how you got a starting position with that hand eye coordination.”

“I don’t know how you got Homecoming King with that personality,” Scott sniped back.

Stiles snorted a laugh. “That’s my boy! Way to be quick on the comebacks, Scotty. I feel like a proud mama.”

Scott shot a quick smirk over his shoulder to Stiles, then groaned when he turned back to the tv screen to see he’d been shot again.

With three more kills, the girls’ victory over the boys was final. Jackson was as sore a loser as Derek expected him to be, but Scott accepted defeat with grace and even a little pride in his girlfriend’s gaming abilities. “You’ve been practicing,” Scott said, pulling Allison into a quick kiss.

She smiled. “I don’t like losing.”

“I want a rematch,” Jackson said.

Stiles groaned. “Just take your ass-kicking with dignity.”

Jackson scowled. “Fine then, you come play against them and see if you don't get your ass stomped.”

“It would be an honor and a privilege,” Stiles said, putting a hand over his heart. Allison smiled up at him. “But another night. Let's go out. I’m feeling cooped up.”

“Where to?” Lydia asked, setting her controller down primly.

Stiles shrugged. “Anywhere.”

“Greenberg is having a bonfire tonight,” Jackson said. “A lot of the guys on the team were supposed to be going.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Scott said, nodding. “S'mores and free booze. Could be fun.”

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles said. “How about it?”

Derek found everyone's gazes drifting to him. As the oldest member of the group, he found himself the de facto decider in some of their more questionable decision making. “Fine,” he said. “But we need designated drivers if we’re drinking.”

“I’ll do it,” Allison said. “We can all fit in my car, and I’m still riding the high of my victory.”

Stiles whooped. “Sounds like a plan! Let’s get moving.”

***

Greenberg had somehow gotten his hands on some hard liquor to go with the cheap beer that usually permeated high school parties, and Derek was suddenly wishing he hadn’t. Stiles was feeling particularly reckless, drinking with abandon and flirting with anyone who would stand still enough to let him.

So Derek was doing shots. He’d drunk before, and he was a pretty big guy, but not usually like this. His head was starting to feel floaty. He was too warm in his Henley near the fire, and the heat and the alcohol had his face flushing.

Beer in hand, he stared across the fire at Stiles. He had his arm around some girl, leaning on her a bit as she laughed at something he was saying.

Derek took a long gulp from his drink, looking away. It didn’t matter if he didn’t watch Stiles, though. He was in his mind, buzzing underneath his fucking skin. It felt like Stiles was everywhere lately.

He couldn’t keep his eyes away for more than a few seconds. Stiles was tugging on a piece of the girl's hair now, literally pulling her pigtails. Derek contemplated storming around to the other side of the fire and pulling Stiles away from her.

It wasn’t like he was jealous of her or anything. Well, not entirely. Derek just couldn’t remember the last time Stiles looked so carefree around him. It left a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that he tried to fill with another swallow of beer. 

He decided to walk away, back over to the tailgate/makeshift bar to get another shot and refill his cup. Music was playing over some loudspeakers close to the liquor, and it throbbed in his head and beneath his feet.

Derek turned away from the music and headed back toward the fire, head feeling even lighter. He was usually a happy drunk, but tonight he wasn’t a happy anything. His inhibitions lower than before, he couldn’t stop himself from walking toward Stiles.

Stiles had his head thrown back in a laugh, his neck looking long and pale in the firelight. Derek knew before he even got to Stiles that being near him was going to dampen Stiles’s good mood, but it didn’t stop him. It fueled him forward, even. It’s not that he had a sadistic urge to make Stiles feel terrible. It was more like a latent desire to have such an immediate, important impact on someone just by being there. It was a heady feeling.

He walked up behind Stiles and stopped just short of wrapping an arm around his midsection. “Hey,” he said into Stiles’s ear. Stiles started, back stiffening. “Come for a walk with me?”

He phrased it as a question, gave Stiles an opportunity to back out. Stiles’s smile fell slowly as he looked over his shoulder into Derek’s eyes. After a few long seconds, he nodded. “See you guys later,” he said.

The girls said their goodbyes, looking a little crestfallen to see him go.

Derek tried to keep the smug satisfaction off of his face as he turned around and started walking deeper into the woods, away from the group of teenagers surrounding the flickering flames. Of course, Stiles followed.


	7. Let Her Down Easy

_Stiles_

Stiles trailed behind Derek into the woods, trying to find his footing. The alcohol was buzzing beneath his skin, and he felt light and happy for the first time in a while. He wasn’t drunk yet, though. He was in that sweet spot between drunk and sober that was really difficult to maintain.

“Where are we going?” Stiles asked when Derek didn’t seem to be slowing down.

Derek turned and faced him, stopping short. Moonlight filtered through the trees, the firelight barely visible behind them now. Stiles couldn’t really get a read on Derek’s shadowed expression.

Derek didn’t say anything for a while, so Stiles prompted, “Did you...want something?”

“Yes,” Derek replied, his voice husky. “You.” He lunged forward, grabbing Stiles’s face and mashing their mouths together. Stiles was too surprised at first to respond back to his movements, to notice the overwhelming taste of liquor on Derek’s tongue. This couldn't be happening. He felt like he wandered too deep into the forest and now nothing was real.

Stiles's heart was heavy, and he had the strongest sense of déjà vu as he pushed on Derek’s chest, turning his face away. “Derek, stop,” he said. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re beautiful,” Derek said. “And I’m not that drunk.”

Stiles scoffed. “You really are,” he said. Stiles had a hard time thinking as Derek attached his mouth to Stiles’s neck and sucked. Stiles carded his hand through Derek’s hair, the movement almost entirely involuntary. “We shouldn’t-” Derek backed Stiles up until his back was pressed against a wide oak tree. Stiles hissed as their bodies collided, providing some delicious friction where his dick was increasingly hardening. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Derek.”

“Says who?” Derek said. He pressed his mouth to Stiles’s again, and this felt like a real kiss. Neither of them were taken off guard or too in their own heads. This was what kissing Derek was really like. 

It was everything. 

Derek’s tongue was in Stiles’s mouth and his hands were everywhere. The rattle of Stiles's belt as Derek unbuckled it startled him out of his reverie.

It took literally every ounce of self-control in Stiles’s body to push Derek away a second time. He pulled Derek’s hand away from where they were trying to unbutton Stiles’s jeans, his other hand planted squarely on Derek’s chest. Derek complied with the force being applied, giving Stiles enough space to slide out from between Derek’s body and the tree.

“Says me,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “Says sober you.”

“I told you, I’m not that drunk.” Derek ran an aggravated hand through his hair.

“Fine, then, how about says your girlfriend." Stiles refastened his belt as he spoke. "How would she feel about you making out with someone else against a tree? With _me_?”

Derek sighed. “It’s complicated.”

Stiles's buzz starting to fade away as the chill from the air seeped into his bones. “Are you still dating Braeden?”

Derek looked over Stiles’s shoulder toward the faintly flickering flames in the distance. “Yes.”

“Then it’s not that complicated.”

Derek threw his arms up in a wide gesture. “What do you want from me, Stiles?”

Stiles crossed his arms over his middle, jutting his chin out. “Do you really get to ask me that right now?” Derek shrugged one shoulder. Stiles shook his head. “Fine. I want you to call your girlfriend.”

Derek scoffed. “And say what, exactly?”

“Whatever you have to! Tell her you want someone else, that you never meant to hurt her. Tell her it’s not her fault. I don’t care what you say as long as you don’t belong to her anymore.” A lump was forming in Stiles’s throat, and he swallowed around it desperately.

Derek looked at him for a long time, not saying anything.

Stiles shook his head. “But you won’t do that, will you?”

“You’re not being fair-” Derek said.

“ _I’m_ not being fair?” Stiles interrupted.

“You can’t seriously expect me to call my girlfriend of _three years_ drunk from a party in the middle of the night and break up with her over the phone.”

“You’re not that drunk, remember?”

Derek glared at him, taking a step closer. “And you’re not that naive!” Derek took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. “She deserves better than that, and you know it.”

Stiles gritted his teeth and willed his eyes to remain dry. “And what do I deserve, Derek?” Derek looked at the ground and didn’t reply. “Monday, then? She’ll be here, and you’ll talk to her then?”

There was a long pause that Stiles refused to break. “Braeden and I have been together for three years, Stiles," Derek said finally. His words broke something in Stiles, and he stood there silently crumbling as Derek continued to speak. "We’re going to the same college. I can’t just...throw that away.”

“Why did you even bring me out here, Derek? Did you just want to play with me a little bit? You were drunk and horny and you knew I’d be willing?” Stiles wiped furiously at the tears forming in his eyes before they could make their way down his cheeks. “Do you really think that little of me?”

Derek’s face crumpled. “Stiles.” He reached a hand out, but aborted the movement when Stiles stiffened away from the movement. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Stiles chewed on his chapped bottom lip. “I don’t think you thought about me very much at all.”

Derek cursed. “I’ve been thinking of nothing else _but_ you lately!” Derek yelled. He scrubbed a hand down his face, looking haggard. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“Then let me make it simple,” Stiles said. “Tell me right here and now that you want to be with me. That you choose me. After tonight, I won't be a choice." There was a long pause where Stiles waited for Derek to say something, _anything._ "Do you want me to beg? Because this is me begging. _Please,_ Derek.”

“Stiles…” Derek turned away from him, running a hand through his hair. “How does this play out for you? I’m leaving in three months for school. Then what, huh?”

“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it. You said yourself, USF is a half hour away.” Stiles swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You can’t have us both.”

Silence stretched between them, and every empty second that passed broke Stiles’s heart a little bit more.

Derek’s silence was as clear as if he’d said the words aloud. Stiles nodded, fresh tears falling onto his cheeks. This time he didn’t bother to brush them away. The pain became unbearable, and he had to say something while he could still stand without his knees buckling. “I figured as much. I’m going to go.” Stiles sniffed. “If you care about me at all, Derek, please stay away from me. I can't keep doing this with you.”

Derek nodded his head once. It might have been a trick of the moonlight, but Stiles thought he imagined Derek’s eyes were glistening as well. He didn’t think it mattered either way.

He turned, crossing his arms across his middle. "I won't forgive you for this," he said, so quiet that the wind likely whipped it away before Derek could hear it.

“Goodbye, Stiles,” Derek said, his voice breaking. Stiles paused his footsteps and closed his eyes as Derek’s words settled in him, irritating the open wound now gaping in his chest.

He wanted to say it back and simultaneously never wanted to say any words less. Finally, he just walked away. It was always going to be silence at the end.


	8. Send My Love

_Derek_

The following week was...hard.

Coach Finstock had them running plays every day after school to prepare for the semifinals that Friday. Stiles hadn’t shown up for any of them. He also hadn’t been around at lunch or before school that Derek had seen. If Derek hadn’t noticed Stiles’s Jeep in the parking lot, he would have thought Stiles was skipping school altogether.

When everyone expressed concern for Stiles’s absence on Monday, Scott brushed it off with an excuse about an upcoming project Stiles had. He waited for a subject change to glare at Derek, pursing his lips. 

Derek’s face flushed, and he looked down at his food without speaking. In fact, the energy of their entire group was feeling off between the stress of lacrosse and the disappearance of Stiles. 

Stiles’s words echoed in Derek’s head all week, ringing like a gunshot. _I won’t forgive you for this._ That made two of them.

Derek kept meaning to talk to Braeden about what had happened between him and Stiles at the bonfire, but he never found a good moment. Every time he thought about bringing it up, he chickened out and they ended up talking about lacrosse or her trip to the city instead. 

As the week passed, each day Derek’s shoulders felt more tense than the last. He needed to talk to Braeden. He desperately needed to talk to Stiles. He was caught between honoring Stiles’s request to stay away and attempting to patch things up between them. He hated where they left things.

On Thursday night, Derek was sitting on his front porch. His thumb hovering over Braeden’s name in his phone as his brain went around in circles. He scrolled down to Stiles’s name on his contact list, but didn’t press the button to call him, either.

“Woah, kid.” Derek turned. His mom was closing the front door behind her. She came and sat down next to Derek on the steps. “You look like smoke’s about to come out of your ears. You doing okay?”

“Fine,” Derek said, dimming his phone screen.

“You’ve been acting a little down the last few weeks,” she said. She wrapped an arm over his shoulders, bringing him in close. “You worried about the game tomorrow?”

Derek shrugged. “Not as much as I should be, honestly.”

“Something else, then.” She push her thick, dark hair behind one ear and looked at him with eyes the same gray-green color as his own. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Derek took a few breaths, considering. “Mom, how do you know you’re a good person?”

She cocked her head to the side, looking at him seriously. “I guess I try my best to treat other people with kindness and respect. How do you know that you’re a good person?”

Derek’s shoulders stiffened. “I don’t.”

She squeezed his shoulder, then pulled away so she could face him head on. “What makes you think you aren’t a good person?”

“I…” Derek released a breath. “I made a big mistake. I hurt someone I really care about. Two people, actually, in the long run. I was more inconsiderate than I ever thought I could even be.” Derek’s voice broke, and he looked away, blinking rapidly. 

“Oh, honey.” She reached out and placed a hand on his knee. “I don’t know the situation or the severity of what you did, but I do know this - no single action makes a person. Everyone makes mistakes. What’s important is that you learn from what you’ve done, and you make up your mind to be better.”

“That feels like a cop out, Mom,” Derek argued. “People are hurt because of my actions. There should be repercussions for that.”

“Derek, there _are_. You feel miserable right now. That’s a repercussion. The people that you’ve hurt might not ever forgive you. That’s another one.”

Derek laughed bitterly. “That’s for sure.”

His mother’s brow lowered in concern. “You’ve always been too hard on yourself, honey. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”

There was a long silence while Derek considered her words. “I don’t even know where to begin to fix this.”

“I think you do. Because despite what you might think right now, I know that you _are_ a good person.”

Derek sighed. “I guess you’re right,” he said. He stood up, and his mom stood with him. “I need to go. I’ll be back before curfew.”

She smiled reassuringly, clasping his shoulder and then pushing him toward his car. “I’m proud of you, Derek.”

Derek smiled softly back at her, inclining his head once before ducking into his Camero.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Derek knocked on the big white door and waited.

A middle-aged black woman answered, glasses perched on her nose and her dark hair twisted up into a neat bun.

“Hi, Mrs. Michaels,” Derek said.

“Hello,” she replied, pursing her lips. “It’s a school night, Derek.”

“I know,” Derek said apologetically. “I just really need to speak with Braeden. It’s important.”

She hesitated, before stepping back in the entrance way. “She’s in her room. You can head on up.”

“Thank you,” he said. He passed Mrs. Michaels and crossed the entrance way to the staircase that lead to the second floor. He knocked twice on Braeden’s door firmly to be heard over her music.

“Come in,” Braeden called, the song quieting.

Derek twisted the knob and opened the door. Braeden was splayed out on her bed, her feet by her pillows and her laptop in front of her. She was wearing pajamas and her hair was up in a messy ponytail. Derek’s heart panged looking at her.

“Derek, hey.” She smiled, closing her laptop. She rolled off her bed and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Derek held her a little tighter than he should. When they let go, Braeden gave him a concerned face. “Everything okay?”

He took a step back. “Not really.” He swallowed thickly. “We need to talk about something.”

Braeden nodded, her face looking serious. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait a second-”

Braeden let out a sad laugh. “Derek, you can be so obtuse sometimes. You’ve been my best friend for three years. You think I don’t know when something’s up with you?”

“But, if you knew-” Derek shook his head. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I wanted to wait until after the game tomorrow. I know how important it is to you, and I figured it could keep until then.” She tugged on Derek’s hand and they went and sat on the edge of her bed, facing each other. “You’ve been a little caught up in you lately-”

Derek flushed, guilt pooling in his gut. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” she said, nodding. “But I’m going to go first, okay?” Derek nodded. It’s not like he could deny her much of anything right now. “Going to San Francisco with my mom last weekend was really... illuminating for me. When I was there I just felt so _free._ I don’t think I realized how bogged down Beacon Hills has made me feel until I was able to leave.” She took a deep breath. “I love you, Derek.”

“I love you, too,” he said quickly.

“I know that. I really do. But if we’re both being honest, your heart hasn’t been in this for a while now.”

Derek pursed his lips, looking away. He nodded slowly. “I wanted it to be. I never, ever wanted to hurt you.”

She grabbed his hand. “I know. We’re just not kids anymore. We’ve outgrown this. This isn’t about what is or isn’t going on between you and Stiles-”

Derek’s spine stiffened. “You know about-”

“I know some. I couldn’t help but notice how you are around each other lately. But it doesn’t matter. Like I said, this isn’t about that. I want to go into college with no ties, free to be whoever I want. Our relationship has become a weight to us both.”

Derek relaxed, releasing a breath. There was pain in this, sharp and unexpected. No one ever said you were allowed to feel pain when you did the breaking. “I don’t want to sound trite, but-”

Braeden laughed, pulling Derek into a hug. “If you think I’m letting you out of this room without our friendship intact you’ve got another thing coming.”

Derek laughed, the tightness in his chest easing as he wrapped his arms around her. “I never deserved you, did I?” he said into her shoulder.

“Nope!” Braeden answered playfully. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, though. Very few people do. Leonardo DiCaprio, maybe.”

Derek shook his head, smiling. “If I see him, I’ll let him know I can put in a good word.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

Derek got up, and waved his hand at Braeden, turning to leave her room. She said his name when he was halfway out the door.

“Yeah?” He turned to face her.

“I hope everything works out with you and Stiles.”

Derek’s smile fell. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I fucked things up with him royally, but thank you for the support.”

She made a sympathetic face. “I’m sure he’ll come around. If it’s meant to be, right?”

Stiles’s words echoed again in Derek’s head, clear as the night he said them. _I’ll never forgive you for this._ “Yeah,” he said. “If it’s meant to be. Goodnight, Braeden.”


	9. Stay Where You Are

_Stiles_

The evening air felt sticky against Stiles’s skin, his pads heavy on his shoulders as he watched the game play out in front of him with passing interest. His life for the last few months had been a mess, and his ass being glued to the bench during the semifinals was a byproduct of that.

He’d missed so many practices and even games on nights he knew his dad had a shift that he was lucky Coach hadn’t kicked him off the team entirely. He looked over his shoulder at his dad sitting next to Melissa McCall, Lydia, Allison, and Braeden in the stands, all of their eyes on the game.

Stiles turned back to his front, trying to work out which play Derek had just called for. They were tied with three minutes on the clock. Stiles watched his friends work to get the ball past the defense and into the goal. Even Jackson was having trouble scoring tonight.

He heaved a long sigh, twisting his helmet on the bench beside him, but then he felt a wave of guilt wash over him for his disinterest. He might not care about the team winning the game, but he knew he should show a little support for all of his friends working so hard on the field.

He looked up just in time to see Dunbar, his midfield replacement when he got the boot from his starting position, take a hard hit. He splayed out on the ground, and the referee blew the whistle, calling a halt to the play.

A few moments later, Dunbar was being led from the field limping, and a frazzled Coach Finstock was looking up and down the bench wildly, searching for a suitable last minute replacement.

The only two of them that knew the formations enough to go in were Greenberg and Stiles, and Stiles could see that realization dawn on Coach’s face. 

It had to be a tough call for him. This was an important game, and Stiles was better than Greenberg. But Stiles had shown zero dedication to the team this year, and Finstock wouldn’t want to reward him for that.

Derek must have seen Coach’s indecision, too, because he jogged over to Finstock, removing his helmet and wiping sweat off his brow. He said something that Stiles couldn’t here, but then Coach made a face and yelled, “Bilinski! On deck, let’s go! You better not screw this up!” 

So Stiles guessed Derek advocated for him. He wished he hadn’t. Stiles had no desire to play this game, to be on the field with Derek right now. He couldn’t exactly say no in front of his dad, God and everybody, though.

Stiles donned his helmet and reluctantly followed Derek out onto the field.

“Alright,” Derek said when they got to the huddle. “We can still do this guys, chin up! Okay, we’re going to run the shallow clear through up top. Stiles.” Derek looked a little wary to be addressing him directly. “You remember how it goes, right?”

Stiles looked at Derek’s forehead, not quite meeting his eyes. “Yes.”

Derek nodded. “Then let’s go!”

Derek passed the ball into play, and miraculously Stiles did actually remember where he was supposed to be. He ran midfield, dodging the defensive player covering him and waited for Jackson to pass him the ball. He looked behind him and saw Jackson shoot for the goal. It was an impossible shot, but somehow the ball sailed into the net anyway, and cheers rang out on the BHH side.

The whistle blew, and they switched up, the offensive players headed back to the bench while the defense jogged out onto the field. Coach Finstock looked like he wanted to both choke and kiss Jackson, but he ended up just patting him on the back instead.

The other team gave it their all, but when the buzzer went off signaling the end of the game, they weren’t able to score, and Beacon Hills won their first state semifinals in twelve years.

The Beacon Hills crowd flooded the field, the players’ families and friends rushing to congratulate them on the win.

Allison, Lydia, and Braeden all wrapped their respective boyfriends in tight hugs. Stiles stared at the latter for longer than was appropriate before turning away with a lump in his throat to face his smiling father.

“Congrats, kid!” the sheriff said, encircling Stiles’s shoulders with his arm.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I did literally nothing. I didn’t even break a sweat.”

His dad shrugged. “A win’s a win,” he said. “You were part of the team. That’s what counts.” Stiles nodded, his own smile dimming as guilt pooled in his stomach. “Listen, I gotta get back to the station, but we should celebrate tomorrow night.”

“Sure thing, dad.”

“Pizza?” the sheriff asked hopefully.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “ _Veggie_ pizza.”

“Now, son. It’s a celebration.”

“We’ll celebrate your long and healthy life. Don’t think I don’t know my traitorous friends slip you the meat kind when they think I’m not looking.” 

His dad shook his head. “I thought the parent was supposed to be the one with eyes in the back of their head?” 

“I don’t know if you know this or not, but my dad happens to be the sheriff.” Stiles raised an eyebrow. “I may have picked up a thing or two.”

“You don’t say,” his dad said. He clapped Stiles’s shoulder. “Go hit the showers and clean off all that non-sweat. I’ll see you later, kid.”

“Bye, Dad.”

***

Stiles wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t broken a sweat during the game, so he ended up just changing out of his lacrosse gear and back into regular clothes before ducking out of the locker room before any of his friends could stop him.

He saw the girls standing around Allison’s car, probably waiting for all the guys to come out. Stiles wasn’t much in the mood for celebrating. He slank past them with his head down, and went to his own car at the back edge of the parking lot.

The school parking lot was well lit, so this time Stiles saw Derek leaning against his Jeep long before he got there. He contemplated just turning around and waiting Derek out until he left, but he ruled that plan out pretty quickly. Despite not having played hardly at all, Stiles was exhausted. He was always tired lately. He hadn’t been sleeping much. Or at all, if he was being honest with himself.

Stiles sighed, long and weary. His whole body felt heavy and he just wants to be in his bed. He definitely didn’t have energy for another round with Derek.

Derek was still in his uniform, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. “Hey,” he said when Stiles was within hearing distance.

“Hey.”

“You played well,” Derek said formally. 

Stiles snorted. “No I didn’t. I didn’t play at all.”

Derek rubbed the back of his neck. “You remembered the formations, at least.”

Stiles sighed again. “What do you want, Derek?”

Derek looked down at the ground, then back up at Stiles’s face. Stiles didn’t meet his gaze. “Braeden and I broke up.”

Stiles’s eyebrows lowered. “You two looked very together tonight.”

Derek said, “We’re staying friends.”

Stiles scoffed. “Good luck with that. Guess you didn’t tell her about what happened between us, then.” 

There was a long pause. “Well, not exactly.”

“Thought so. Get off my Jeep.” Stiles stepped closer to the driver’s side door, reaching for the handle.

“No, wait.” Derek said, throwing his arm across the door. “I didn’t have to. She sort of knew already.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “So when you say you two ‘broke up,’ you mean she dumped you.”

“It was...mutual.”

“Convenient.” Stiles reached for his handle again, but Derek didn’t move his arm. “Derek, please just let me go home.”

“Stiles, I don’t think you’re getting it. I went to Braeden’s to break up with her. To choose you. She just happened to be in the same place. But I _chose_ you. Doesn’t that change things?”

His eyes met Derek’s for the first time in a week. “No, I don’t think you get it. I meant it when I told you not to bother if you didn’t know your choice was me when I was begging you to make a decision. You made me feel like _nothing._ That doesn’t just go away because you’ve changed your mind suddenly.”

Derek huffed an angry breath. “It’s not fair for you to hold that night against me. We had both been drinking-”

“Drinking changes your inhibitions, Derek, not your morals.” Stiles glowered. “Don’t you dare try to cop out of what you did.”

“Fine, drinking aside. lt was a big decision. It wasn’t one I made lightly. Can’t you understand that?” Derek reached for the hand that rested on his door handle, but Stiles jerked it away before they touched.

Stiles’s heart pounded in his chest. He willed it to slow as he took a step away from Derek. “I don’t trust you. I don’t trust you not to hurt me.”

Derek’s face crumpled. “Stiles, I won’t, I promise. I’m in. I’m all in. I choose you. What can I do to make you believe I won’t hurt you again?”

Stiles returned his gaze seriously. “You can let me go.”

Derek looked at Stiles steadily for a few long moments. He closed his eyes briefly before stepping aside and letting Stiles get in his Jeep.

Stiles cranked the car and pulled away, refusing to glance in his rear-view mirror at Derek as he went.


	10. It Matters How This Ends

_Derek_

Derek guessed that maybe his life didn’t look that different from the outside. It felt different to live it, though. He never actually expected Stiles to turn him down after the game. He knew he deserved it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Derek figured he had a glimpse of how he’d made Stiles feel the night of the bonfire. That thought left the hole in his chest raw and ragged more than any other, more than Stiles’s rejection, even. No one deserved to feel this way, but especially not Stiles.

From that night on, he and Stiles circled each other, not really actively ignoring so much as passively avoiding interaction. At least Stiles was around, though. That was better than how it had been before. At least, Derek thought it was better. 

The rest of the school year passed through Derek’s fingers like sand. They played hard and well but lost the state finals, and it didn’t sting like it should have. 

Before he knew it, he and Braeden were marching across the makeshift stage on the lacrosse field in dorky maroon robes while their friends and families watched.

Afterwards, he was engulfed in happy congratulations. His mom brushed away tears before they could fall and told him how proud she was. Derek was passed from person to person, giving tight hugs and receiving tugs on his tassel.

When he clapped Scott on the back, he was left with only Stiles to interact with.

“Congratulations,” Stiles said. It didn’t sound warm, but it did sound sincere.

“Thank you.” Derek's stomach fluttered as he looked at Stiles, a beat of awkward silence between them as the rest of the room hummed with excitement.

“Enjoy San Francisco,” Stiles finally said.

Derek nodded, feeling suddenly numb as he realized Stiles didn’t plan on seeing him for the rest of the summer. Maybe for the rest of forever.

“Goodbye, Derek.”

Derek didn’t reply. This time it was he who refused to return the sentiment. Stiles turned and walked away, and Derek stood standing there and watched him leave.

Just like always.

***

The smell of smoke and tangy barbecue sauce filtered through Derek’s open bedroom window, hanging thick and enticing in the summer evening air. It had been a summer full of prepping for his move to the city and logging hours as a lifeguard at the community pool to save money.

Derek had blinked, and his summer was over. He and Braeden were all set to leave the following day. To send them off, Derek’s parents were throwing them a going away party in their backyard.

People were starting to show up, and Derek’s mom called his name to come downstairs. Derek pulled on some shoes and went down to the kitchen. Braeden was standing at the counter next to his mom, chopping up cucumbers for the salad they were making. 

Their parents had taken their changed relationship in stride, though his mom had expressed concern for them being able to maintain a friendship after their relationship dissolved. So far it hadn’t been an issue.

Braeden grinned over her shoulder at him when she heard him come in. “‘Bout time you showed your face.”

Derek walked over and nicked a cucumber off the cutting board. “I’m sorry, were you pining? Honestly, Braeden, desperation isn’t a good look for anyone. I’m getting embarrassed for you at this point.”

Braeden brandished her knife at him. “You really think it’s wise to mocked an armed woman?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek said. “Put up or shut up.”

His mom smirked at them with a raised eyebrow. “No bloodshed until after the party, please. I just mopped the floors.”

“But he’s asking for it, Mrs. H.”

His mom laughed. “Believe me, I understand the desire.”

Derek clutched his chest theatrically. “My own mother. You wound me.”

His mom rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Make yourself useful. Go see if your father needs any help.”

“As if he’ll let me,” Derek said, stealing another cucumber.

“The gesture’s still appreciated,” she said.

Derek shook his head but headed out on the back porch to check in on his dad. His help was refused like he knew it would be. His dad was notorious for not letting anyone else touch his grill. His dad sent him off to entertain his younger siblings, instead, and keep them away from the fire.

Liam and Cora were happy to have Derek’s undivided attention, and that made him feel a little guilty. He hadn’t had much time to devote to them lately, and now he was leaving and would see them even less. They decided to play Hide-and-Go-Seek, a game in which they were surprisingly well matched. 

At nine and eleven respectively, Liam and Cora weren’t very good at finding, but they were small and had a much easier time of hiding than Derek did, so it worked out. People were steadily streaming in, and Derek waved and said hello, but he kept playing with his siblings, already missing them though he hadn’t even left.

That was how Derek found himself staring up at Stiles from behind the garbage can on the side of their house.

The summer had been kind to Stiles. His pale skin had a warmer undertone, and the ever-present circles under his eyes looked much less pronounced than when he’d last seen him. Derek was loathe to think the time away from each other had done them both good, but maybe it had. It was a bittersweet thought.

Stiles raised an amused eyebrow at Derek as he straightened up. “Um, hey,” Derek said.

“Hi.”

“You’re here,” Derek said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, obviously. I didn’t know if…”

Stiles cleared his throat. “Yeah, well. I ran into your mom at the diner a few days ago. She made me promise to come.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Derek said. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said. His cheeks flushed, and he looked down at the ground. “So do you.”

They were spared any further awkwardness when Liam ran up and launched himself at Derek. “Got you!”

Derek laughed. “Okay, okay. Guess I’m It.” He turned to Stiles, his smile dimming. “I’ll see you.”

Stiles nodded, and Derek picked Liam up around his middle, carrying him like a sack of potatoes. “Derek, put me down!” he said, giggling.

***

The sun had long since set, but the party was showing no signs of dying down any time soon. Some of Derek’s lacrosse buddies were splashing around in the pool, and the adults were flushed and laughing, a result of the nearly empty Adults Only ice chest, he had no doubt.

Derek was discussing his college plans and possible majors with his next door neighbors, the Hendricksons, when Liam ran past him, squealing with glee. He and Cora had evidently found a box of leftover sparklers from the Fourth of July.

He watched as Cora ran up to Stiles, who didn’t smoke but somehow managed to have a lighter on hand, and got him to light another sparkler for her. Stiles laughed as she tried to spell out her name with it in cursive in the air.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest as he stared at Stiles. He excused himself from the Hendricksons' conversation, and after one more long look at Stiles, headed back toward his house and up to his room.

His stuff was all in boxes. Well, everything he was taking with him, anyway. The only thing that was unpacked was his bed and some toiletries to make it through tomorrow. He sat down on the edge of his mattress, a wave of nostalgia washing over him as he rested his elbows on his knees and held the back of his neck.

The sound of his door opening made him look up with mild interest. Stiles stood there in the shadowed doorway, his shoulder resting against the side of it.

They stared at each other in the dark, neither of them saying anything. They were always good at that. The sounds of the party filtered in through the open window, but they didn’t make any of their own.

After a few long moments, Derek opened his mouth to speak, though he wasn’t sure what he would even say.

Stiles didn’t give him the chance, though. He crossed the room in a few even strides, grabbed Derek’s chin in a gentle but firm grip, and turned his face up to kiss him.

A thrill of hope rushed through Derek at the press of Stiles’s lips against his, but it was dashed quickly. This kiss didn’t taste like a new beginning or like kept promises. It tasted like goodbye, bitter and sharp.

Derek turned his face away, closing his eyes tightly. Stiles rested his forehead against Derek’s.

“Can we have this?” Stiles asked quietly. “Just this.”

If it didn’t feel like his insides were being shredded slowly, he would have let out the desperate laugh that bubbled in his chest. He didn’t think there were any parts of him left for Stiles to break.

As if there was really even a choice. As if he could refuse Stiles anything. It was a bad idea, Derek knew, but could anything really be worse than this winter that existed between them now? 

Derek would not throw back in Stiles’s face anything he was willing to give, even if he knew it was going to leave Derek feeling hollow later. Especially then.

He breathed Stiles in, felt the warmth of Stiles’s breath against his cheek. Finally, he nodded.

Stiles kissed him again, and Derek kissed him back fiercely. Derek leaned back, and Stiles straddled him as they ended up horizontal. Derek held him too tightly, and there would probably be finger-shaped bruises on Stiles’s hips tomorrow, but Stiles didn’t complain.

Derek rolled them over so he hovered over Stiles. He mouthed at Stiles’s neck, sucking his pale skin until it was mottled with little round bruises. Stiles panted in his ear and carted his fingers through Derek’s hair.

Stiles pulled his wallet out of his pants pocket before shimmying out of his jeans entirely. Derek watched as Stiles pulled two small foil packets from its folds. “Stiles, are you sure?” He knew without needing to be told that Stiles had never done this before.

Stiles nodded. He pulled Derek’s shirt over his shoulders and threw it beside the bed, kissing Derek again as he ran his hands over Derek’s chest.

Derek broke their kiss. “Stiles…”

Stiles returned his gaze seriously. “It’s supposed to be you, Derek.”

Derek nodded, capturing Stiles’s mouth in a kiss. He took that moment to slow things down, though. If they were doing this, they were doing it right. Derek stripped Stiles’s clothes off with care, and he took a moment to just look at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Derek said.

Stiles’s face flushed and he looked away. Derek knew Stiles didn’t believe him. He hoped one day he would.

***

After, when their breath had finally evened, Stiles slipped from between Derek’s arms before he could tighten his grip. The blissful, content feeling in Derek’s chest dissipated, the hollowness already creeping in. “Stiles,” Derek begged. “Stay. Please.”

Stiles looked over his shoulder at Derek, pale white in the moonlight and still so beautiful. “I can’t.”

Derek leaned back against his pillow, jaw clenched as he watched Stiles get dressed. He sat up when he heard the clinking of Stiles’s belt being buckled. The blanket fell, and he was suddenly self conscious about his nudity.

“Are you going to hate me forever?”

Stiles paused as he pulled his plaid shirt over his shoulders, looking at Derek evenly. “I don’t know.”

Derek ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Look, I know that I hurt you, okay? Believe me when I say I know that. But can’t you at least try to forgive me?”

The last bit of blissful softness faded from Stiles, and now he was all hard edges. “You think I haven’t been trying?”

“Have you?”

Stiles huffed. “Do you realized that you never even apologized?”

Derek stiffened, his mind running back over all of their interactions since the bonfire. “Of course I did.”

Stiles’s jaw tightened. “Not once.”

“Is that what you need from me? An apology?”

“What I need is for me not to have had to ask you for it.”

Derek scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m never going to win with you, am I?”

“This isn’t a game, Derek.” Stiles’s voice was hard. “I’m not playing.”

“Are you sure about that, Stiles? Because sometimes it feels like you’re more interested in fighting with me than you are in being with me.”

Stiles face turned sad as he looked away. “There isn’t a single thing that I want more. I don’t know how to forgive you, Derek. I don’t know how to fix this.”

Derek swallowed past a lump in his throat. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I _am_ sorry.”

Stiles looked at him. “I know,” he said. “So am I.”


	11. This Feels Like Falling In Love

_Stiles_

Stiles felt too small for his own skin, like he was rattling around inside of himself. Derek was on his way or had already gone to San Francisco, and it wasn’t that far away, but every mile between here and there felt like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He doubled up on his Adderall, but the usual focus and calm accompanied by the dry swallow of his pills never came. He took a shower and tried to scrub the marks Derek had left off of his skin, but they only got darker.

When he couldn’t clean Derek off of himself, he settled for cleaning the house instead. He washed the dishes and took out the trash. He matched up all the socks in the big sock basket, swept, mopped, and vacuumed all the floors, and scrubbed the counters.

He was taking a sponge to the base boards when his dad hauled him up by the collar of his shirt.

“Alright, kid. Spill,” his dad said, sitting him down at the table and taking the sponge from his hands.

“What?” Stiles said, throwing his hands up in an irritated gesture. “Have you passed a new law against cleaning? You really should’ve posted a sign or something.”

His dad narrowed his eyes, gesturing at the base boards. Stiles’s eye nearly twitched at the neat line of dust that showed exactly where he’d been forcibly stopped. “This has gone beyond cleaning and is verging on neurosis. What happened?”

“Nothing.” Stiles shook his head. “I’m fine.”

The sheriff sat down across from Stiles, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. “Don’t make me drive out to the Hales' and get Talia’s insight on the matter.”

Stiles’s eyes widened. “Why-”

“This is the third time you’ve come home with a face like the one you’re wearing after spending time around Derek. Twice is a coincidence, but-”

“Three times is a pattern,” Stiles finished for him. He groaned. “You couldn’t have been a car salesman or something?”

“And miss out on the chance to make you miserable?” He settled his arms on the table. “Tell me what happened.”

Stiles sighed, long and weary. “It’s...complicated.”

“I’ll try and keep up,” his dad said dryly.

Stiles had been on this side of a few of his dad’s interrogations throughout his adolescent years, and as such he knew he wasn’t going to get off the hook without giving his dad answers. He broke down and told his dad the whole story, more or less. He left out some of the more recent activities that might not necessarily get the sheriff’s stamp of approval.

The sheriff listened attentively, wincing appropriately but not otherwise interrupting.

“And now he’s gone with Braeden to San Francisco, and I’m…” Stiles gestured vaguely.

“Cleaning,” his dad said.

“Cleaning,” Stiles agreed flatly.

The sheriff leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Sounds like one hell of a pickle, kid.”

Stiles huffed. “I’ll say.” He looked down at his hands, his fingertips having gone pruney with all the scrubbing. “Dad, how do you forgive someone for something that hurts so bad every time you think of it?”

“I don’t think I have an answer you want to hear.”

“I want to hear any answer besides ‘you don’t,’” Stiles said, meeting his father’s gaze.

His dad sighed. “You just... _try._ If it’s worth it to you to make something work, you have to be the bigger person, swallow your pride, and let things go.”

“I have been trying,” Stiles argued.

“Stiles, really trying take time. It means faking it until you make it. It’ll come eventually, but you can’t repair a bridge if you’ve burnt it down completely.”

Stiles swallowed, considering. “And what if I really try and I still can’t forgive him?”

“Well, there are plenty more baseboards where these came from.” Stiles narrowed his eyes, and his dad chuckled. “Look, son,” he said, expression turning more serious. “The last thing I want to do is shove you back into the arms of someone that’s going to hurt you. But I think we both know Derek is a good kid. People make mistakes. Some are too big to be forgiven, and some aren’t. You’re the one who has to decide which one of those his was.”

Stiles rubbed a hand down his weary face. He released a long breath. “Just try?”

“Really try,” his dad said, nodding. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Stiles thought about the nearly physical pain that shot through his chest when Derek stood staring at him in the forest, then again when he walked out of Derek’s room last night. He guessed it didn’t really matter what condition his heart was in, though, if he didn’t at least give this a shot. It was already fifty miles away in San Francisco anyway.

Stiles stood up abruptly, his chair making a loud noise as it scooted across the floor. “I’ve got to go.”

The sheriff nodded, grinning. “I expect you back home tonight,” he said. “And Stiles? Make sure and let Derek know if he hurts you again I _will_ find a reason to arrest him.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he smiled. “Will do.”

****

“Hello?”

“Um, hi, Mrs. Hale,” Stiles said, glancing over his shoulder to switch lanes. “It’s Stiles.”

“Hi Stiles.” She sounded amused like she usually did when talking to Stiles. He didn’t know why that was. “You’ll have to catch Derek on his cell. You missed him by about two hours.”

Stiles cleared his throat. “Well, that’s why I was calling actually. I, um. I need to see Derek, but I never actually got his address from him.”

“And you can’t ask him because…” Stiles could practically hear her raised eyebrows, and what was with the Hales and their damn eyebrows?

“It’s...a surprise visit?” Was that a lie? He wasn’t sure. Derek certainly wasn’t likely to be expecting him.

She laughed. “I was wondering when you two were going to stop dancing around each other. Do you have a pen?”

Stiles sighed, relieved. “I’m driving, actually. I’m not likely to forget it, though.”

Twenty minutes later, Stiles was pulling through the gate of an apartment complex about a mile off USF’s campus. He creeped past the buildings until he found one that had numbers in the range of the one Talia had given him.

He spotted Derek’s sleek black Camaro parked near one building and pulled in next to it. Releasing a shaky breath, he cut the ignition and walked over to stand in front of the door with the numbers on it that he’d repeated over and over on the drive over so he wouldn’t forget: _514._

With a trembling fist, he knocking three times on the door.

“Who the hell-?” he heard Braeden say through the paper thin door. She pulled it open with a curious expression that settled into a fond smile when she saw Stiles standing there. “Miss us already?”

She pulled him into a hug that Stiles reciprocated fervently. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered into his hair. “He’s been moping all morning.”

Derek stepped out of a room down the hallway, stopping short when he saw the two of them. “Stiles?”

Braeden released him with a ruffle of his hair that he always pretended to hate.

“Hi,” Stiles said.

Braeden cleared her throat. “I’ll just be unpacking in my room if you guys need anything. A witty comment, a referee, whatever.”

She sauntered off, her bedroom door closing firmly to give them whatever privacy that would afford them in the tiny apartment.

Derek looked at him with lowered brows. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” For the first time in his memory, Stiles was kind of speechless. He had rehearsed so many things that he was going to say the whole way here, but they all deserted him in this moment. Derek waited, and Stiles knew he wasn’t going to let him off easy. “I wanted to see you,” Stiles finally finished lamely.

“Why?” 

There was a hardness to Derek’s tone that hadn't been there the night before, an underlying hurt he was trying to hide. Last night, hell, this whole saga between them, it was hurting Derek, too. Stiles felt the realization hit him like a physical sensation.

He took a few hesitant steps closer to bridge the distance between them. “I missed you.” A more honest statement had never come out of his mouth.

Derek’s answering laugh was hollow. “It’s been twelve hours, Stiles. Before yesterday, you hadn’t talked to me in three months. Now suddenly you _miss_ me?”

Stiles took a few more steps until he was right in front of Derek. He reached out a hand to cup Derek’s jaw gently. Derek closed his eyes, leaning into Stiles’s touch. “I never stopped missing you.”

Derek opened his eyes and looked into Stiles’s. Stiles could see vulnerability in Derek’s wide-eyed gaze. “Have you forgiven me?”

The lie on the edge of Stiles’s tongue begged to be told. “Not completely, not yet,” Stiles said instead. Derek winced. “But I want to,” he added quickly. “I think I will, if you give me a little time. Will you let me try?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Derek nodded. Stiles smiled a wide, joyful smile. He pressed their mouths together in a kiss so different than all their others had been. It was a kiss full of hope, easy and free.

Derek’s fingers wrapped in Stiles’s belt loops, pulling them closer together. He broke their kiss, resting his forehead against Stiles’s. “No more walking away,” he said, taking deep breaths.

Stiles shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Derek said. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLG6Dvau-S8PZim_AaQBaTPCR8mre1u0X-) a link to the playlist that all the chapter titles came from.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr [here](http://icomewhenyoucall.tumblr.com/) with any questions or if you just wanna come hang out.


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